Pull trigger.
The value of Modern Art is completely driven by a well written review by a well-known critic of the Arts.
I will demonstrate this to you by writing you first, a glowing review, and then, a negative review.
A recent high power user of an obscure website, known only by the cryptic moniker, x0x7, displayed his/her/they, or even their, first foray into the brutal world of modernist abstraction. And the creation is brutal indeed. As I looked over the canvas, my eyes were drawn from right to left, from up to down, from the cold blues of brutal male sexuality, to the warm reds of feminine last, and fertility, interspersed with the green longing of the regeneration of a disparaged Earth. While this mysterious newcomer won't be making the MoMA in the near future, I'd be surprised if our Grandchildren didn't see them there within their lives.
Vs
x0x7... What's in a name? Not much, apparently. The piece seemed needlessly cryptic, and technologically driven. It would be better relegated to an obscure Linux Distro's startup background than it be to a 3rd class Manhattan art gallery.
The critic truly makes the artist. One might call the critic the true artist. The question is what make the critic accepted or not? There's your real king maker.
The critic has to convince the people to read his shit. Go read some Appolinaire, perhaps the greatest art critic of all time. That gay cubist fad never would've caught on without his writing.
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